The Shadow and the Thief
by SilasWhitfield
Summary: Dari is a Khajiit going nowhere. Exiled from her home in Elsweyr for being a Skooma addict and a thief, she settled in Leyawiin and scratched out a meager living by the waterfront. One morning an unconscious Argonian boy washes up in the reeds outside her shack, an arrow protruding from his shoulder and a troubled past hot on his heels. That was the day her life changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

Darkness engulfed the young Argonian, but he was not afraid. He had been born in the dark. The shadows were a harsh mother, but they had taught him many things. They had made him patient. His body ached from where they had hit him and dragged him across the stony ground. There was a thick cloth bag over his face. The air around him was filled with creaks and groans, and the wooden floor shifted under him as the ship listed from side to side. They must be moving through a squall. Good. This would distract their attention.

His captor had been drinking. Goes-Unseen could smell it on his breath as the man clumsily tied him up, and then kicked him a few times for good measure. The joke was on him, though. He had been working away at the poorly tied knot and had managed to slip one hand out of it. Now that he could hear the human snoring nosily, he felt it was time to make his move. The stars had aligned for him on this one, he had to admit. By all rights it should have been the end when he heard the door of the bar slam open and thick boots clomp across the threshold. But it turned out not to be the Dark Brotherhood, but a band of ruffians looking to cash in on the bounty his one-time brothers had set on his head. Now it seemed that fate was prepared to grant him a further reprieve, if only he could grasp it.

He took the hood off and dropped it to the floor. He almost said a prayer to the Night Mother as he stood, but then thought better of it. Those days were over. If he made it out of this alive, he swore that it would be a new beginning. He navigated the swaying floor, finding his balance as he tread carefully over to the table where the man assigned to watch him was slumped over, his head in his hands. Goes-Unseen gently retrieved the dagger from the table. It had seemed almost like a short sword when it was first given to him, but he had grown into it. It was the first weapon he had used to take a life. He considered it for a moment, and then plunged it into the man's neck. Strictly speaking this was not necessary, but he did it anyway.

What most people did not realize was that killing was easy. Thinking about it later, that was the hard part. He doubted this man would haunt many of his dreams, though. At the moment he was finding pity hard to come by.

He continued on through the ship's belly, peering cautiously around every corner, but the rest of the crew were asleep in their cots and hammocks. Slowly he crept past them and up the stairs to the deck. A howl of wind and rain assaulted him the moment he opened the door. There were more men out here, but they were up in the rigging, desperately trying to stow the sails before the storm ripped them apart. This was where his luck ran out. As he rounded the corner he ran smack into a human. His blade found it's mark, but too late, his cry for help carried above the whipping wind and surf. As his body dropped to the deck, Goes-Unseen saw another group of men standing up by the helm. Several of them were already drawing back their bowstrings. He turned and made for the water. If he could just get beneath the waves, he would be home free. Even the best human swimmer had nothing on an Argonian. The last thing he remembered was feeling the rough, splintery wood of the edge of the ship underneath his footpads. Just as he pushed off with his legs to jump, something hard and sharp hit him in the shoulder blade and he tumbled forward. Darkness engulfed the young Argonian, but he was not afraid. He had been born in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

The light of dawn played across Dari's cheek. She opened her eyes and remembered where she was. Eitar was snoring contentedly, so she swung her legs out of bed and gathered up her clothes. When she was fully dressed she took the small purple vial from the nightstand- payment for this encounter. She turned it over in her hands for a moment, then un-stoppered it and took a small sip. Just a little taste to get her going. The familiar bitter taste of Skooma filled her mouth and she swallowed, taking care to avoid choking so as not to wake her customer. Then she departed the house.

Water dripped from the roofs of Leyawiin, and birds sang happily. There had been a tremendous storm last night, thunder and lightning dueling in the skies until the wee hours when both sides called a truce and the clouds lifted. She liked the smell of the air after it rained. The whole world seemed brighter- clean and polished. No one was in the street yet except the beggars and urchins who had no choice in the matter. Her face was a familiar sight to the guard on duty at the wall, who nodded hello to her and opened the gate. He had been a customer too, once upon a time, until his wife had caught him sneaking home covered in short golden hairs.

A cool spring breeze rustled through the willow trees and shifted the hem of her dress. She thought about the circumstances of her life, as she often did after the day's first hit of Skooma. She thought about all those people she had let down, ripped off and betrayed in her homeland, all for the sake of that drug. And then she thought about something else, because in her experience, thinking about the past could drive you crazy. Leyawiin had expanded since the end of the Oblivion crisis, although not in the way that the empire had anticipated. The humans seemed to be eternally on the rise, regardless of their military situation. The gold and the good land belonged to them, and Khajiit and Argonian alike still flocked across the border to find their fortunes in Cyrodil.

The walls, though, were set. There were only so many souls who could live inside the city. The rest had settled on the banks of the river to the south of towns like Bravil and Leyawiin, the Argonians on the west bank and the Khajiit, mostly on the east, although there was a great deal of overlap. Shanty towns had sprang up, extending onto the water like wooden cobwebs. There were plenty of fish to catch, and a dozen other hustles for new arrivals to pursue, but no real jobs. The lucky ones got themselves apprenticed to a mage or blacksmith and the rest lived a tedious, day-to-day existence like Dari. Every morning she woke up wondering if she had made enough coin the previous day to put food in her mouth today. Sometimes the answer was yes, and sometimes it was no. The first year she had been there she had manged to work out an "arrangement" where she could have a warm place to sleep in exchange for her body. By the second year this arrangement had grown tiresome and she had managed to buy a fishing shack downstream. The previous owner was a Nord hunter who was packing up and moving to Imperial City. It had been perfect for her because it was even farther south from Leyawiin, around a bend in the river and surrounded by willow trees and tall grass. She could do pretty much as she pleased there, and it was relatively isolated from the dangers of the shanty town.

The shanties were an amicable enough place by day. Dari recalled many warm summer afternoons spent drunk on the pier, fishing with total strangers and exchanging banter, gossip and playful insults. By night, however, rougher types started to wake up and begin their prowl. Gambling dens unlocked their doors. Skooma peddlers and addicts converged at their favorite corners. Thieves' Guild enforcers extracted protection money and hustled new arrivals. She was glad she was no longer living there. She had recently found a trail through the woods that lead from the city gates to her house, so that she did not even need to walk along the main road past the shanties at all. This was advantageous, because just like everywhere else she went, it seemed she had managed to make more enemies than friends.

At last her house wound into view. It was fairly small- a kitchen with a wooden stove and a table with a few chairs abutting a small bedroom. She had made many improvements- not least of which was putting wood floors over the dirt and sealing up all the leaky cracks with pitch. A gaggle of chickens roamed the yard in their usual little cliques, pecking at the space that had been cleared of vegetation. A long, dilapidated fence ran around this clearing. It was difficult to see from the road, so she did not get many visitors, a fact for which she was grateful. A long wooden dock extended from the back porch of the cabin and out into the reeds, far enough that one could throw nets or a fishing line clear of the end.

Something caught her eye as she moved to unlock the back door with the key around her neck. A dark shape was lying in the reeds underneath the dock. Her hand hovered above the door frame for a moment, and then let the key fall back against her collarbone. She approached the figure cautiously, and discovered that it was an Argonian. He was badly hurt. An arrow protruded from back at an angle. Each time the lizard breathed in, it shifted.

A silent debate raged in Dari's mind. She could either ignore him, and hope he would die or wake up and remember where he was supposed to be, or she could help him. Even as the loud voice of experience told her to roll him back into the water and let someone else deal with him, she realized that she couldn't. She could tell from being around Argonians for a while that this one was fairly young. His had was bare save for a small crest fringe, and the red spots on his face had not yet blossomed into his final adult coloring.

Pity overwhelmed caution, and the instincts of a healer kicked in. First things first. That arrow would have to go. Thankfully it did not appear to be barbed. When she had been a younger, more innocent girl training as a healer in her homeland she had seen many soldiers stricken with such wounds. She reached out to grasp the arrow.

As soon as her finger brushed it, the Argonian's eyes snapped open. He hissed at her like a frightened cub and tried to move away, but she pinned him.

"Stop struggling, you're only going to make it go deeper."

Surprisingly, he obeyed her. She could tell he was exhausted. His waking breaths were hardly less ragged than his sleeping ones, and he had not even bothered to try to reach for the knife which was stuck through his belt, even though it was on his uninjured side.

"This has to come out if you want to live, do you understand?"

He nodded and replied, surprising her again with his mastery of the human tongue.

"Just do it..."

Gingerly she reached for the shaft again, clasped her hand around it, and pulled it free in one clean motion. A groan turned into a shout of pain. She clenched her teeth as she saw the young Argonian's eyes roll into the back of his head. He quivered, and then fell unconscious again, a fresh flow of blood oozing out of his back.

Dari moved quickly, putting her hands under his arms and hauling him back towards her shack, where she kept her medical supplies. The chickens scattered to let them by. She would have to act fast. He had lost a lot of blood already and he could not afford to loose much more.


	3. Chapter 3

Sun beamed off the jeweled wings of a dragonfly. It hovered above the steaming swamp for a heartbeat, it's wings making little ripples in the surface. Then a bullfrog surfaced, and with an enormous gulp the insect was gone. His stick scratched the surface of the mud, turning over a little patch which he shaped with his hands. He poked little windows in it, and made a wall around it. He placed the stick in the top of the mound and admired his castle.

A familiar voice called his name, and he looked over his shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway of their home. She had an expression that he have never seen before- her eyes beheld him unblinkingly, with warmth but also with a deep sadness.

"Come child. The king's servants will be here soon. You must be clean."

He stretched his legs to stand up, but instead of cold mud he felt rough wool blankets, and a deep pain in his back.

The face of the dream shivered and dissolved away into nothing. For a moment, he drifted between slumber and the waking world, his mind rebelling at the idea of another day. The darkness dragged at him. It was inviting, the idea of falling away into that void, to go and feel nothing more, but in the end the fire inside him couldn't help but burn brighter. No. There were many miles yet to go, many sunrises yet to see. Fate had hurled misfortunes at him and he had survived them all.

His eyes flicked open.

He was lying in a small room made of wood. His left arm was bound to his chest, and a throbbing pain was shooting up through it from his shoulder and upper back. A candle was seated on a bookshelf near the ceiling, burnt down to it's last few inches. As he turned his head and looked right, he saw an open door and a wood stove beyond. A figure was crouched in front of the fire.

He pushed the covers back and looked down, fumbling for his dagger with his good hand. Not even to draw it- simply to check if it was still there. It wasn't. He tried to raise himself up, but firm hands pushed him back down. He had not heard her approach.

"Be still. You will open up the wound again."

He did so, and she pulled the blanket back over him.

"Are you in pain?"

He shook his head, but she sat down on the bed anyway, and took a small vial out of her pocket. A viscous liquid dripped out and onto a spoon. The candle-light glinted in her large eyes, making them glow briefly. She placed the spoon in front of his face and, hesitantly, he opened his mouth and allowed her to pour the medicine onto his tongue. It was gag-inducing, but he swallowed it anyway. The Khajiit was clearly sincere in trying to help him, and he didn't have anything to steal anyway.

A warmth spread out from his stomach and vibrated out into his extremities, overwhelming the throbbing pain in his left side. A groan of relief passed his lips. The Brotherhood had taught him how to resist pain, but for once it was nice to be able to relax that discipline. The Khajiit smiled.

"That's better, isn't it?"

"Thank you." He said, his voice slightly raspy from disuse. He had not said a word since he had been kidnapped. He did not want to give them the satisfaction.

"My name is Dari." The Khajiit said.

He told her his full Argonian name, and she chuckled.

"I will never be able to pronounce that. What about your name in the human tongue?"

"Goes-Unseen."

"From the Black Marsh, I assume?" She said.

Her tone was light, but he could sense where this was going.

"Yes."

She was silent for a moment. He could almost see the inevitable question turning inside her head.

"Whose arrow did I pull out of your back?"

Goes-Unseen was ready. He was good at lying. The words were only part of it, it was the way you conveyed them that mattered. If a lie was told properly, it would be one the listener not only could believe, but wanted to believe. The best lies were lies of omission, because one could tell a lie and never have to actually say an untrue word.

"I made enemies in my homeland. They put a price on my head and someone came to collect it. I barely got off their ship alive."

Dari turned and fixed him with those unfathomably green eyes. He could tell that she knew he wasn't telling the whole story. He knew because under that emerald gaze he had hesitated- looked away. There was another moment of silence, and then the moment of consideration had passed.

"Well. I certainly know what it feels like to have enemies."

She stood up and walked to the bookshelf before blowing the candle out.

"Sleep now. Rest is the only medicine I have in great supply."


	4. Chapter 4

When Goes-Unseen opened his eyes again, it was morning. His tail was mightily sore from sleeping in a funny position. He had been about a head too tall for the cramped bed, but he was immensely thankful for it just the same. He pulled back the blanket and swung his legs onto the floor. It was surprising how weak he was- as though the arrow had sapped everything out of him down to the farthest extremities. Tentatively, he reached a hand up to the wound, and found it was covered by a bandage. At very least it was no longer throbbing- and no longer bound to his chest. The Khajiit had cut it free while he was sleeping.

He found his shirt and his breaches, but it took a long time to get them on. He went outside to find Dari sitting cross-legged on a large stump. She had a thin pipe stem clamped firmly in between her teeth, and his dagger in her hand. She was running it across a very fine sharpening rock that glinted in the sun. The river was wending it's endless way past the long wooden dock and towards the sea, it's passing lending a wonderfully calming background noise. The trees were thick on all sides of them, big fat trees with hundreds of roots diving into the soil all around their trunks, seeking the water.

He almost asked if he could have the knife back, but decided against it.

"You don't say much, do you?" She said, at length.

He shook his head.

"Good. I like that." Dari said. "Sometimes I talk too much myself. Gets me in trouble."

A cloud of smoke drifted from between her lips and floated away. A motley gaggle of chickens appeared around the corner of the house, pecking at the ground. There were all different breeds and colors, and all looked very hard-bitten and scraggly.

"Could you do me a favor?"

"You saved my life. I think I owe you more than a favor." He said.

From beside the stump she pulled a small bag of feed.

"Give the little hell-raisers something to eat."

* * *

She watched him sprinkle the bits of corn on the ground with his good hand. The hens jumped forward at the sight of the food and began to jostle one another for position.

"How did you come to speak Cyrodillic so well?" She said.

He did not reply immediately, just as he had not when she asked him about the arrow. He was not being truthful with her- she could tell. If there was one thing she had learned to spot in her life, it was a lie being concocted.

"I was taught when I was very young, practically a hatchling."

"You had a good teacher. Most of the Argonians around here hiss like a steam kettle when they try to talk to the humans. You royalty?"

"...what?" He said, taken aback.

"Are you a noble's kid or something?"

The Argonian laughed at this. She didn't know it then, but it was the first time he had laughed in a very long time.

"No, but I was a servant of royalty. My family has served the court of the King of the Black Marsh for generations."

"I see." Dari said. "What was that like."

Goes-Unseen paused a moment, thinking. The seed dribbled through his fingers and the chickens pecked at it, but he paid them no mind.

"It was not good. The King can do whatever he wants to you. He could ask you to kill your own mother, and you would have to do it, and if you didn't do it he would kill your whole family and then you."

He glanced at her and then looked down and began to toss the seed again. Clearly he had said more than he wanted to.

"Did he ask you to kill your mother?"

"No. But he asked a great many other things that were just as bad."

Dari almost pushed farther, but she did not. He had clearly reached his limit of questions, for the moment at least. There was something tremendous lurking inside that quiet, polite voice and those piercing eyes- some emotion whose depths and breadth was so catastrophic that it must be kept at bay every moment or else it would break loose and destroy everything.

"That's enough. The chickens will keep eating until they burst if you let them."

She took the sack of feed from him and rolled it up, giving him his knife in exchange.

"Would you like to help me check the traps?"

He nodded.


End file.
